Jesus and I attend aerobics class at the local YMCA. Jesus bags it after ten minutes and goes out for a smoke. Later, I call Channel 7 News. Bill Beutel takes my statement. We have to pray more and dedicate ourselves to God, I say. And we should all wear brightly colored underwear. Nothing else. It's the real thing, Bill declares. Jesus flies around the room making helicopter sounds with his mouth.

Jesus gets up early for church. Go without me, I say from bed. Bill Beutel and a film crew arrive at 10 a.m. I stand on my front stoop and describe the miracle. How do we know it's really Jesus? Bill says all of his viewers want to know. I describe the helicopter sounds and Bill nods gravely. Jesus buzzes in after church and turns on the television. We watch Bill's interview of me on the 6 o'clock news. Jesus laughs because I forgot to comb my hair. "At least you remembered your pink undies," he remarks. Mayor Giuliani promises to keep the streets "Jesus free" and posts twenty-six policeman outside my apartment building.
A large crowd of religious zealots assemble outside my apartment. When I exit to begin hunting for a new job, the people cheer and three 14 year old girls pass out. I deliver my sermon. A young man points to a puffy cloud above and yells, "It's Jesus!" Jesus looks up and is more puzzled than anyone. "That doesn't look anything like me," he says. The Mayor schedules a parade for Jesus and me. No one wants the gays, particularly Jesus, but I say, "what the hell," and the city council reluctantly caves in.
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